


to go together

by pastisregret



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Princess!Marinette, guard!adrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 21:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21417313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastisregret/pseuds/pastisregret
Summary: in the weeks leading to a ball, adrien finds himself by marinette's side, a place neither can complain about.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 39
Kudos: 373





	to go together

**Author's Note:**

> this is way longer than intended i'm mad

Growing up in the castle in the years after the war was an experience. His father, the defeated kingdom’s ruler, had been exiled from the land after the last battle, and Adrien had been lucky enough to find favor with the winning side shortly after the peace treaty had been drafted and his cousin was crowned ruling king. And while the adjustment to guardsman from a prince had been somewhat of a challenge, Adrien took it in stride.

Especially, in fact, when he became instructed to watch over the royal princess in the weeks leading to the royal ball.

“You should watch your step, Princess,” Adrien says, watching as Marinette continued up the stairwell.

“I’ll be fine,” she says, smiling as she looked back. Only moments prior had Adrien found it necessary to clutch at the cuff of her sleeve to prevent a fall, but with each step she took bounding upwards it seemed almost impossible to recall the moment. The only sign that Marinette took caution in her steps could be found in the way that she firmly held onto her skirt, hovering the hem a few centimeters off the ground.

“Your mother will be angry if she finds you scuffed up your new dress.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I won’t,” Marinette says in response, laughing. “I have an excellent guard who protects me, remember?”

“And I have a princess who likes making my job harder,” he retorts with, chuckling.

“You complain as if you don’t enjoy accompanying me. Isn’t this much more fun than practicing for hours on end outside?”

Adrien watched as she neared the top step, smile growing as he answered her question, “You make a fine point there. I do have to admit there is greater joy in walking alongside you, Princess, but you need to be more careful. We can’t have our heir to the throne wandering about every other day.”

“I’m not ‘wandering around’,” Marinette dismisses. “I’m _exploring_, and so are you. Or do you not want to find the source of the noise I heard earlier?”

“Well, it would be nice to figure out what was the cause,” Adrien starts, a smile growing as he noticed the glee in each step she made, pleased at his answer. “However, you should really think these things through, before – “

He stops when he catches sight of what caused the noise, eyes darting to a broken vase. Flowers scattered on the floor and a pool of water soaking into the rich carpet, Adrien’s eyes widened in shock as he quickly reached a hand out to grasp at Marinette.

Stepping away from him before he could grab hold of her however, Marinette appeared to not be focused on that manner.

“Plagg!” she exclaims, watching the black cat lazily curl on the space where the vase had been. “You little _rascal_.”

“I guess he broke this in return for not getting breakfast this morning,” Adrien says, sighing. He had found Plagg in the first few weeks after the treaty, and over the years the cat became a darling to Marinette, even while he caused trouble all around. “Should I send him outside as punishment?”

“And let him suffer out there? No, we shouldn’t do that…” Marinette says, trailing off at the end. Pressing a finger to her lip, she mused for a second before turning to Adrien, brightening. “Why don’t we fetch Plagg a plate of food now? He must be famished if he’s gone to making messes in the hallways, and we can’t have something like this occurring again with the ball so close.”

“You spoil him.”

Laughing, Marinette took a step closer, eyes crinkling in amusement as she looked at Plagg. “He’s just a cat. How can I not?”

“You need to be careful, Princess. Have you forgotten there’s glass strewn about?” Adrien asks, stepping ahead of her to observe the broken vase. He crouched down quickly, trying to sort the flowers away from the mess before they wilted with no water.

“It looks like you’re the one who needs to be careful, Adrien. You’ll hurt yourself if you touch the glass.”

“I won’t,” Adrien brushes off, “I’m sure a skilled guardsman like me will not – “

Stopping, Adrien bit back a curse as his hand caught on a shard, scraping against his hand and leaving a burst of red to blossom alongside his hand.

“Hurt myself,” he finishes, ears turning red.

“You see?” she asks. “I _knew_ you would get hurt.”

Standing up, Adrien held his hand out towards her, showing the injury. “It’s just a cut, Princess.”

“It looks deep, Adrien.”

“I’m fine.”

He wasn’t. The blood had begun to pool in the palm of his hand.

“We need to wrap it up,” Marinette says, voice firm. Reaching for the ribbon tied around her midriff, Marinette tugged at the bow, undoing it in on motion. Collecting the ribbon in her hand, she extended her free one towards Adrien, waiting for his injured hand.

“Princess, you shouldn’t – “

“Your hand, Adrien.”

“You’re asking for my hand?” he asks, letting out a small laugh as he let her grab hold. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you, Princess?”

Marinette turned as red as her ribbon, giving Adrien a small glare. “Very funny,” she lets out, beginning to wrap the silk piece of cloth around his hand. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you learned how to entertain the court rather than protect it.”

“Who says I didn’t learn both?”

Marinette chuckles, hand shaking as she fought to contain composure. Winding the ribbon once more around, she brought both ends together to make a quick knot before glancing up, staring at Adrien intensely as she said, “Protecting me won’t get you anywhere if you don’t protect yourself, you know.”

“Princess,” Adrien responds, keeping eye contact with her, “I will always be happy to serve you, no matter what happens.”

* * *

A few days later, in Marinette’s favorite spot in the garden, she found more pleasure in the ease of the moment rather than the rush, Adrien at her side. They were sat on a bench together, and surrounded by buzzing bees and vibrant flowers, she was sure midday never seemed more pleasing than now, with his blond hair catching the sunlight.

“Have you read this novel before?” she asks him, looking up from her book passage and turning to look at him. Cornering one end, Marinette held the title out to him, letting his eyes skim over the words and a smile grow on his face.

“A few times,” Adrien admits. “It was my favorite story to read growing up in my palace, along with a few volumes of fairytales my mother had owned.”

Blinking, Marinette set her book down, looking more intently at him. “You’re fond of fairytales?”

“Happy endings are so rarely found in real life, Princess,” he says, looking away to gaze at a flower bush. “I found it much easier to seek them out in words.”

“Well, I beg to differ,” she says, frowning. “A fairytale is all around us, if we’re willing.”

Adrien laughs, curt. “Is that so?”

“Why, yes. What other reason would we be here for, if not to find our happily ever after?”

There’s silence between the two after she voices her question, enough for Marinette to wonder what occupied Adrien’s thoughts in that moment.

“You make a good point, Princess,” he finally says, voice gentle and slow. “With time, I’m sure you’ll find someone worthy to live your happily ever after with. Perhaps even at the ball next week, if you’re lucky enough.”

_No_, Marinette thought to herself, glancing down to look at her skirt. _I’m sure I’ve already found him._

“Well,” she responds with, “I’m sure only time can tell, Adrien. The ball, of course, is only three weeks away. Who is to know what will occur between now and then?”

“I suppose so.” Closing his eyes, Adrien tilted his head upwards. “May you read a passage or two from the novel? I do rather enjoy the ending.”

Grabbing the book once more, Marinette flipped to the ending, fingers moving dutifully to turn pages. Holding it up towards her face, she spoke clearly, nothing more than a soft echo in the garden as she said:

_“And so, she looked towards him, eyes alit in the candlelight as they gazed at one another, love clear in their eyes the longer they stared. The commoner felt her heart soar with a passion never experienced before, and when the prince leant forward to place his lips upon hers, she knew that at once the wicked witch’s curse had finally been broken, transforming her back to her previous beauty and glory. They were married and live happily ever after.”_

“How romantic,” he says, letting his eyes flutter open to look at Marinette. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” she says softly. “How romantic indeed.”

* * *

“I give up!” Marinette exclaims, a hand coming to her face as she sighed, two days before the ball. “There’s no way I’ll be able to learn the dance in time without stepping over my own feet.”

“I’m sure you will,” Adrien says, watching as she raised her arms once more to imitate holding onto someone. “You’re a talented dancer.”

“My _family_ are talented dancers,” she corrects. “I can barely keep with the beat of the song, Adrien.”

Closing her eyes, she begun to hum, following a song purely in her head. Her body swayed from side to side as she did so, slowly turning in a small circle. Her hands were firm in their place, poised as she danced with her imaginary partner, and while Marinette continued to hum intensely.

She had been so caught up in her own movements that she hadn’t noticed when Adrien came forward to take his place. A hand rising to meet hers and another coming to hold onto her waist where a new ribbon was tied, he waited for her eyes to open.

“What are you doing?” she asks, even while she relaxed into his touch.

Adrien guided her around, keeping in time with her footsteps with a grace she hadn’t seen from him before. “Helping you practice, Princess.”

“You dance?”

“Did you forget I’m a prince?” Adrien asks, raising a brow at her. “I grew up most likely learning the same dances as you. Now what are we doing?”

“Just a simple waltz,” Marinette mutters, cheeks blossoming in color. “My mother said if I can do this at the ball without stepping onto someone’s shoes, I’ll be freed from my dancing lessons for a week.”

“Just a week?”

“It’s much more pleasing than it sounds.”

“I believe you,” Adrien says, sending her into her first twirl. “My dance instructor wasn’t much fun either when I learned. Although, I always tried bargaining for two weeks’ time away.”

“Did you now?” Marinette asks, facing him for a second before she went into another spin, following the length of Adrien’s arm as he extended it out, letting her separate from each other.

“Yes, but it never worked. I guess you’re smarter than me by asking for less.”

“Really?” Marinette smiles, tickled at his compliment.

Pulling her close, Adrien spun her back to him, their faces centimeters apart as they made eye contact.

“But I also think,” he says, voice low, “that you’re doing amazing, Princess.”

“Really?” Marinette asks again, but with the close distance between the two, there’s a change in her tone. There’s a sudden swell in the air, and the very present feeling of her ears ringing, of eyes going blurry the more she stares at Adrien. His eyes were unlike any shade of green she had focused in on before, and if she was right Marinette would swear it seemed he was grower closer to her face with every passing second.

With a jolt, she realized he _was_, and not by his doing.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette forced herself to turn her head away, blowing out air sharply. “I think,” she says, voice much more high-pitched than usually, “that’s enough practice for today, don’t you?”

“I assume so,” he lets out, letting his hands move away from her. Watching her, Adrien took a step back, allowing the princess her space.

“Maybe we can practice again soon,” Marinette says, eyes trained elsewhere. “The ball is so close, after all. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“Maybe so.”

“Yes, maybe.”

* * *

A week after the ball, Marinette confronted Adrien in her chambers, where he was posted to ensure she had no issues throughout the night.

“May we practice the dance once more?” she asks, setting down the comb she had been using the brush her hair.

“The dance?”

“The dance we did together before the ball,” Marinette says, watching him through the mirror reflection. “You remember, right?”

He did. A hand coming to rub at the back of his neck, Adrien smiled sheepishly and nodded, remembering the way she had danced so beautifully in his arms. At the ball, watching from the side of the room, he witnessed her beauty again, twirling about as if she had no qualms about the waltz in question.

“So you do.” Twisting in her chair, Marinette gave him a smile. “Shall we continue where we left off?”

“But Princess, there’s no upcoming balls,” Adrien says, attempting a protest. Even still, he took steps towards her, hand already extended for her to take.

“I know. But,” Marinette says as she reaches for his hand, “I think practice makes perfect, don’t you?”

Pulling her upward, Adrien led her to the center of her room. “Perhaps, Princess.”

Holding onto one another, their hands found familiar spots to rest upon, spots they hadn’t found the strength to forget about in the passing days.

But, when Adrien pulled her close this time, it seemed that Marinette had forgotten to turn away.

* * *

It was nearly a month after the ball when she heard the news.

“You must marry a prince before your twentieth birthday, as was stated in the peace treaty.”

In the throne room, seated next to her parents and gazing out to the royal court, Marinette felt her mouth open slightly in shock, observing the royal assistant who stood before them. The words he had just spoken ran through her head over and over, yet she still had trouble processing them.

“A prince,” she finally says, the weight of her sleeves suddenly much heavier now and the lull in the room over at the sound of her voice.

“As explicitly stated,” they continue, “it was decreed that each heir should be married off early, ensuring a favorable union that will hold up strong until the time comes for taking the throne. Thankfully, your father and mother are both in good health, and the time for the throne should not come by for several years.”

“A prince,” Marinette repeats, weak and soft enough that solely her mother and father heard.

“We have various princes and potential suitors from several kingdoms. We can start the courting process in the next month, and continue working and meeting with the lineup until you – “

“That won’t be necessary,” Marinette interrupts, raising a hand.

“It won’t?” her father asks. Before he can say more, Marinette’s mother nods, encouraging for her to continue.

“No, it won’t, for you see… I’ve already found my prince.” Marinette let her eyes dart to the side of the room, where Adrien stood next to the other royal guards and in place during the discussion. At her words, a murmur begins in the court.

“Who?” her mother asks, albeit unconvincingly shocked. “We have yet to set you up with any suitors, and during the ball you had no interest in anyone, my dear.”

“Well… Adrien’s a prince, is he not?”

“Adrien is – “ Her father stops, pausing while he tilts his head. “Well, Adrien _is_ a prince, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she says, nodding, “he is. And while he may have chosen to become a guard in our kingdom, Adrien is still considered a prince in the kingdom he came from.”

“You do mean,” interjects one duke from the side of the room, “the kingdom his father dictated over, correct? The kingdom we went to war with?”

“I mean,” Marinette counters, “the kingdom he had no part in ruling; dictator or otherwise. His father ruled of his own accord and has been exiled from all nearby kingdoms for the better part of almost a decade. _And_, had it not been for his mother’s bloodline, Adrien’s father would not even be apart of the Agreste kingdom. Gabriel the Cruel was _married_ into royalty, am I right?”

“My Marinette is right,” her father says, eyes twinkling in pride. “Adrien, after all, is still considered a prince, even while his cousin rules as king. For that, we must recognize him for who he is: Prince Adrien Agreste to his kingdom, and Adrien, my finest royal guard.”

“Which, if I may add, seems a fitting addition to his title,” Marinette says, drawing laughs from the court, most notable from her mother.

Raising her hand, Marinette’s mother commanded attention of the room in a single moment, with her eyes trained solely on one person.

“Adrien?” she asks, voice strong and calm.

Adrien stiffens, the other royal guards stepping aside so he could step closer to the throne. “Yes, my Queen?”

“My daughter makes a strong argument on your behalf. A rousing one, if I might add. Marinette certainly seems passionate about this and provides all the points for why we should consider what she has to say.”

“That she does,” he says, eyes darting to Marinette.

“She also seemed to have studied intently about your father for defense of you, which is no small feat.”

“The princess is very bright.”

“The princess?”

“Marinette,” he corrects, speaking her name for the first time. “Marinette… is an extraordinary person.”

“By all means, she gives me, and I assume my husband, enough to support her and her choice as of now. But… I only have one thing to ask of you.”

“And that is…?” Adrien asks, holding his breath.

Marinette’s sure she’s never seen her mother smile so proud before.

“Do you love my daughter?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“Of course,” Adrien says, loud and clear onto the court.

“Well then, Prince Adrien,” she continues, rising from her throne, “I am sure that is all I need to hear. Tom?”

The king rises, nodding at Adrien. “I agree, my Sabine. If my daughter will please – “

Marinette stands before he can finish speaking, straightening out the folds of her skirt in one motion.

“Stand,” he finishes, chuckling, “I believe today we shall adjourn earlier today. It seems we have much more important matters to discuss in the upcoming months.”

Marinette wasn’t sure if it was her bodice or the look Adrien gave her as she left the throne room, but she had never been so breathless before then, where suddenly everything in the world looked so new and precious to her, and every step she took grew her more and more elated.

An engagement did that to a woman, she supposed.

* * *

It was the night after the wedding when Marinette felt her heart soar into the heavens. The celebrations were still going on in the kingdom, and through the palace Marinette could hear the distant sounds of the band from the ballroom, but even so, there were far more pressing matters to attend to.

Her husband, for one.

“Princess,” Adrien says, watching Marinette sit next to him in their bed.

“My prince,” she responds with, a hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

Leaning into her touch, Adrien smiled. “Not exploring the castle tonight?”

Laughing, she shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“How about reading in the garden?” Adrien asks, leaning his head forward to touch hers.

“It’s too dark out. I’ll strain my eyes.”

“And dancing, my dear?”

Marinette hovered one foot above the floor a bit in show, causing him to chuckle. “I fear my feet are sore enough already from the ceremony, my love.”

“So then, what do you suppose we do instead?” Adrien asks, a hand coming up to play with her hair. “The night is still young, after all.”

“Well then,” she says, nearly a whisper, “may I kiss you?”

Adrien doesn’t answer verbally. Instead, he leans forward just so, waiting for Marinette to meet him halfway. And she does, a kiss sweet enough that Adrien feels he’s finally reached his happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> mari-cheres... on tumblr... yeah follow me there i guess


End file.
